


Alter Ego

by Wolvesandwerewolves



Category: Chuck (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:05:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesandwerewolves/pseuds/Wolvesandwerewolves
Summary: Bryce hasn't seen his brother in years—not since Neal was arrested and he dressed as a guard to check up on him. Not since Bryce faked his death and failed to mention to his brother that he was alive—and not an accountant. Not since Neal found out.Neal must be desperate, to ask for his help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just another Bryce and Neal are twins story :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I guess I now have another Bryce-and-Neal-are-twins series in the works! Yay! 
> 
> Lmk what you think and if you like it, check out my other ones! Thanks guys :) 
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos! :)

Bryce hasn't seen his brother in years—not since Neal was arrested and he dressed as a guard to check up on him. Not since Bryce faked his death and failed to mention to his brother that he was alive—and not an accountant. Not since Neal found out.

He wishes he was looking forward to it.

He's not.

Bryce cranes his neck, squinting, using his hand to block the sun. He stares up at the tall sky scraper in front of him. Huge, looming, it feels like a metaphor.

Neal hates him. More than that, he's afraid of him. Bryce hates that, but he doesn't regret instigating it. It's just a means to an end, another layer of protection.

One that will be striped today.

Neal must be desperate, to ask for his help. Bryce can't refuse him anything—saying _no_ to Neal was a skill he'd never developed. It's another reason why he's alienated his brother.

It's why he's here today.

Bryce strides into the building with false confidence that tells of familiarity. He's never been here before, but the security guards and other agents will recognize him as Neal. It won't do to look lost. Besides, he looked over the blueprints and online 3-D models for the building on his flight here. He has an idea of where he's going.

He walks over to the elevators, but doesn't have to wait for one. It's the middle of the day, right after lunch; most people are where they're supposed to be. Even so, there's a woman stepping off as he steps in. He looked into the agents Neal worked with the most, but he doesn't recognize her. He didn't have time to look into the whole building. Still, there's a confused frown on her lips and she blinks.

“Weren't you just upstairs, Caffrey?” she asks, voice low, rough like a smoker's, but attractive. Her tone is demanding, harsh. She's suspicious.

Bryce smiles easily, automatically changing his straight, alert posture to match Neal's easy, casual stance. “Took the other elevator but forgot something,” he lies, pressing the button for the twenty first floor. The woman doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't have a chance to question him as the doors close.

As soon as he's alone again, he drops the smile. He sighs, taking a deep breath as he straightens out again. He left his gun and every other weapon he had on him at Neal's place when he stopped by to borrow a suit. He feels naked, but he's been on undercover assignments before when he's had to ditch everything.

This isn't an undercover assignment. This is personal and he will not try to distance himself from it. If Neal is opening this door against both of their wills, Bryce won't let him close it again. He misses his brother.

He's retiring, anyway.

Bryce rolls his shoulders, hoping to ease the tension. He counts to himself, slowly, pacing out twelve seconds between floors. He wonders if Neal ever complains about how long it takes to get to the _twenty first floor._ The CIA headquarters he's used to are more spread out; they don't even have twenty-one floors. Of course, California isn't as dense or tall as New York. He finds himself thankful he doesn't have many assignments here.

The elevator dings as it finally stops on the floor dedicated to White Collar crimes. Bryce nods to himself, straightening his suit as he steps out. Behind glass doors there's an array of desks and shelves with files. He sees Neal's desk immediately, even though he's not currently sitting there. There's a Socrates bust at the edge Bryce is sure used to be his. He's surprised Neal has kept any of his things.

Bryce quickly scans the room, looking for his own face. He doesn't see Neal, but other agents start to notice him, staring openly in awe and confusion. It's not obvious that he isn't his brother—he shaved on the plane and they've always kept similar hairstyles. He's wearing one of Neal's suits. If the agents know he's not Neal, he must be here.

He follows their bewildered glances up the row of stairs to a half floor, consisting of rows of glass offices. Neal is standing in one of them, looking down at him, mouth tight, brow furrowed. He doesn't take his eyes off Bryce as he turns slightly, to the other man in the office. He can read his lips from here. _We need him, but we can't trust him._

 _Well,_ Bryce thinks, at least his brother is being honest about him.

Before the agent can get a good look at him, Bryce flicks his gaze back around the office, once, taking note of the tense atmosphere, agents hurrying around. Most desks are empty, but there's a few people in a larger room on the above floor, seemingly working together. No one is slacking.

At least the FBI isn't completely incompetent when it comes to kidnapping. Bryce almost expected them to be lazily puzzling about on their computers or doing paperwork. Most are actually working.

Bryce walks casually across the office, ignoring the hushed whispers and intrigued glances. He takes the stairs slowly, not rushing, and opens the office door Neal is in without knocking. Neal nods at him without a word. The other man— _Peter Burke,_ his mind supplies—is staring at him with harsh confusion and wide eyes.

 _“Neal,”_ he croaks, voice rough, cracked.

Bryce smiles, reaching a hand out. “Actually,” he says, “you can call me Bryce. It's nice to meet you, Agent Burke. I've heard a lot about you.” From the Intersect and his own research, of course, but he doesn't mention that.

Neal narrows his eyes at him, but he doesn't call him out on implying who he gets his info from him. He's afraid and he knows he has the lower hand; he'll play along.

“Bryce,” Neal says, voice deliberately nonconfrontational, “we need your help.”

Bryce smiles. For his brother, he would kill. He has before. “Whatever you need.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone is gathered in the conference room, clustered around the table. They seem to take it in stride, Neal having an identical twin brother he's never once mentioned before. No one asks him about it, no one asks Bryce or Peter about it. Hughes asks him his name— _Bryce_ —how he can help— _I have a lot of friends and a lot of skills_ —why he's there— _Because Neal asked me to be._ Aside from that, no one questions it. Bryce signs a few papers, and he's working as a consultant just like Neal is. They play along.

Neal wonders how they would react if they were to find out Bryce is a killer.

Neal takes a shallow breath, reminds himself it doesn't matter. He's doing this for Elizabeth.

They have five days. Neal doesn't know where Mozzie is. He doesn't know where the treasure is.

He doesn't know where Elizabeth is.

But Bryce is next him, helping him—for now.

Bryce clears his throat, walking back into the room. “Friends of mine are scouring the streets,” he says, tucking his phone into a front pocket. “One third are looking for your wife, Agent Burke; another third are looking for Matthew Keller. The rest are looking for Mozzie.”

“And how many friends do you have?” Hughes asks, crossing his arms.

Bryce smiles, flicks his eyes towards Neal. “I'm a popular guy.”

“What exactly do you do, again? I wasn't here for the briefing.” Agent Rice glances suspiciously between the two of them. She owes Peter a favor and she's Kidnapping and Missing Persons. Neal still doesn't like her, but he can respect her. Even if she can't, anymore.

No one has said anything, but everyone knows. This is his fault.

“Don't ask him that,” Neal says, leaning more heavily against the window sill. There aren't enough seats for everyone in the room and even if there were, he wouldn't sit down.

Bryce, however, smiles at her as if he appreciates her question. Neal doesn't miss the tension around his eyes. “Neal and I ended up in similar career fields,” he lies, “but I wouldn't waste my time looking into it.”

“Let's not,” Peter agrees.

“Time is something we don't have,” Neal reminds them. Peter glances over to him, eyes hard. Neal does his best to ignore it, but it flickers at the edge of his vision and his mind, unable to be completely ignored. “We have no leads, aside from the phone call Keller made a few hours ago and the blood on Satchmo’s chin—which wasn't Keller's. What's the plan?”

Bryce raises his hand, as if asking for permission to speak. Neal frowns at him, but shrugs to show he's listening. “You said Keller wants a stolen Nazi treasure?”

Neal nods, once. Bryce was paying attention—he already knows this. He's making a point. “Yes.”

“And he thinks you have it.”

Neal resists the urge to shift uncomfortably. He can feel everyone's eyes on him, accusing. They have a right to be. “I don't.”

“I believe you.” Bryce nods, looking around the room, calculating. He can read them, too. He knows there's more to it, but he doesn't ask, at least not yet. Neal can't help but feel grateful towards his brother. It hurts.

Peter makes a weird noise in the back of his throat but he doesn't say anything. Neal wonders how much he's holding back.

Jones asks, “Where are you going with this, Caffrey?”

His brother smiles. He's never gone by Caffrey. It must feel as uncomfortable as Larkin or Brooks feels to Neal. “Call me Bryce, please. Is there a manifest?”

“There is,” Diana says, leaning back, crossing her arms. “But the FBI doesn't negotiate with kidnappers. And we don't even have the treasure.”

“Can we negotiate without actually negotiating?”

“Excuse me?” Rice asks, voice hard, full of angry disbelief.

“Keller obviously thinks Neal has the treasure. Let's use that to our advantage.”

“No,” Hughes says, at the same time as Peter.

“We're not playing with my wife's life,” he says, voice strangled. Neal wants to go up to him, put a hand on his shoulder, assure him it will work out and they'll have Elizabeth back by the end of the week. He doesn't. He can't move.

“Of course not,” Bryce says, voice hypnotic, assuring. It's the same voice he used when they were kids, Bryce holding a bag of frozen peas to his face, inspecting the bruises on Neal's chest at the same time. It's the same voice he used when Neal found out he didn't die in a bank robbery gone wrong. Neal shoves those thoughts out of his mind, forces himself to pay attention. _Elizabeth_. “This isn't a game. But it seems to me the Nazi treasure is the only leverage we have, even if we don't have it. What's on the manifest? Neal, how long does it take you to make a few forgeries?”

Oh. It clicks for Neal in a blinding moment of clarity. It's a good idea, but there's no way he can create enough art—canvas, jewelry, or otherwise—in less than five days. “I can forge a few paintings in a few days. One a day, maybe. But I'll need help.”

“You have it,” Bryce says. “I already have a few _reproductions_ that might be of use.”

“You think that will be enough to fool Keller?” Jones asks, obviously disagreeing.

“There's no way we'd be able to gather enough art from the era to convince him.” Diana leans back in her chair, glancing at Peter and Neal.

“We don't necessarily need to fool him,” Bryce says. “We just need to buy time.”

“No,” Hughes says again, shaking his head.

“Ask yourself this,” Bryce says. “Do we have any other choice?”

“Yes,” Peter says, staring Bryce down. His eyes are red, but no one comments on it. “We continue looking for Elizabeth and Keller. You're not the only one with resources.”

“Well. I hope that works.” Bryce sits back down in his chair, leaning his head in one hand, casual, carefree. Neal huffs.

“But it's passive,” he says. It's a good idea. He has to sell it. “We've worked out of the box before. Plenty of times. It's direct action.”

“Look,” Bryce says. “I won't recommend putting much man power into this. Neal and I, one or two agents. Have the rest do things your way.”

Peter rubs his hand over his face. The other tightens into a fist. “And what if all you manage to do is piss Keller off? We're playing with my wife's life.”

“If we're playing with Keller, at the very least it will keep him preoccupied and that gives you guys,” Bryce nods towards the agents, “more room and opportunity to do your jobs. And if we can get close to him, that will hopefully give _us_ the opportunity to plant a tracker on him. He'll lead us straight to Elizabeth.”

“And if he doesn't?” Diana asks. Her eyes are hard, but her posture is unsure.

“It will still be useful to track him. Won't it?”

“Yes,” Neal says automatically, cutting off anyone else's chance to speak. “He'll probably stick close to El when he can.”

Agent Rice scowls at him. “That's true,” she admits, voice rough. “Just in case something goes wrong, he’ll have to be nearby to fix it.”

“So, it's settled, then,” Bryce says, casually fidgeting with his tie. Neal's tie.

Everyone scowls at him for taking control of the situation, but Neal is just grateful. He looks to Hughes, who’s also scowling at Bryce, but he’s nodding.

“Do it,” he says. “Its our best option.”

Peter swallows, looking angry and defeated. “Jones, Diana,” he says, waiting until they nod. “Help them out.” _Make sure they do what they’re supposed to. Don't let them mess this up._

“We'll get her back, Peter,” Neal says. “I promise.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/kudos! I might continue this if you guys want but I'm still working on The Last Game and a few other fics. So let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, that was totally Agent Rice on the elevator. 
> 
> Thanks guys :)


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